


A Nurse absconds from her patients

by SirCracken



Series: Killers [3]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCracken/pseuds/SirCracken
Summary: Sally tries to find her remaining victims but becomes prey herself





	1. Sally Smithson

In a large burnt down building a man stood on its second floor clutching his chest. The saw had taken in as much blood as was leaking out. He grimaced as he applied the antiseptics, filling his body with almost as much pain as the saw had. Although the attempts weren’t lame they didn’t stop his whimpering as he started to apply the last of his bandages. Were he not focused on binding himself he might’ve heard a distant gasp for air that could’ve given him time to escape. But the breath reached his throat before it reached his ears and the man was shortly strangled at the neck.

Sally floated upright and looked at the newly created corpse. Its face, once with an expression of agony, was now calm and silent. This gave Sally a small amount of satisfaction as she had never been able to witness suffering for very long without the urge to halt it. In another life she would have done so with laughing gas and stitches, but now she would only use her cold and pale hands.

She looked out from the rusted bars at the field surrounding the asylum. It was sparse only containing rubble and the occasional tree, but could give the other victims a place to hide, and so Sally gave a loud wheeze and briskly warped to the centre of the field.  
Her saw was dangling from her grasp as she hovered around the patches of dead bushes, its tip dripping blotches of red into the dirt. Despite its recent use it was still razor sharp and rending more victims would prove effortless in Sally’s hand of iron.

Her head kept drifting from right to left as her feet trailed lightly against the tips of the grass. The remaining three were proving to be extremely wary, no doubt after hearing their companions short lived scream before his abrupt silence. Sally was never much for keeping a low profile anyhow. It was something that she took pride in, keeping the victims on edge and shivering by her mere presence. It meant that they were far less likely to save each other once the first death, fearing that each would think themselves next within Sally’s grasp and the life draining from their eyes.

Sally took in a deep breath as she noticed movement by the asylums edge and warped to see a man with a dark brown jacket disappear inside.  
This one was cornered. And none would be coming for his rescue as Sally continued after him, letting out echoing cries as she closed in. The man, realising that he had been seen, sprinted up the staircase as fast as his leg could carry him. When he heard the gasp he immediately doubled back, just in time to avoid Sally’s reaching hand as she came through the floor. Seeing few other options the man continued running. He saw one of the asylums many broken windows and, seeing few other options, pushed off from the windows edge.

Sally halted his leap.

Once his eyes were closed and body lifeless she let him go and he fell to the ground. The thud disrupted the crows beneath her and they took off cawing angrily whilst circling the rusted hook by the asylums entrance. Sally’s pride evaporated as she looked at the unbloodied hook and remembered what would befall her if it remained that way.

She continued drifting around the asylums walls for a while, the whispers had yet to fill her ears with confirmation of a nearby victim. She wondered if perhaps they had realised that proximity to her would lead to their discovery, of maybe they had found the second corpse and avoided her presence more than usual. Whatever the reason for their persistent stealth, it mattered little when the lights in the distance turned on.

Sally let out a sharp wheeze then arrived at the spinning machinery within moments, her head tilting left and right looking for movement. The whispers had started caressing her ears, as to not muffle up any potential sounds, and Sally was sure that a victim was soon to be found. As she searched the ground for foot prints, Sally noticed a patch of parted grass next to a stone brick wall. As she glided towards it, it became there that something was lying there. She screeched and held her bone saw up high as she violently jerked forwards, hoping to catch a victim before they had time to flee. But her saw connected with cold steel rather than warm flesh, and once Sally had recovered from the recoil of the blow she inspected the object.

It was a dark iron contraption of sorts. It seemed designed to open outwards but all that was beneath it was surely earth. Just to make sure Sally gestured with her left hand towards the device but it held fast despite her telekinesis. She put down her bone saw and clenched both her fists but still it did not budge. Finally she placed her saw between its sides and used it as a wedge, flexing her fingers as hard as she could. It quickly began to bend. The consequences that entailed should it shatter would be catastrophic, but the chance that a victim was hiding beneath it was great enough for Sally to keep pulling.

Then it sprang open.

Inside yawned a pitch-black void. An ominous sound began to fill up the air. Sally picked up her saw, that had be launched when the metal barrier was breached, and looked into the dark abyss. She lifted up a nearby pebble and gently lowered in into the opening. The moment it disappeared from sight Sally tried to bring it back out but found that nothing returned.

She started to worry that her actions had only wasted her time but was curious about what lay beyond the lightless threshold. Taking a quick survey of her flat-levelled surroundings, it was plain that there few places else to hide. Sally did not notice the crows that had taken roost on the overhead branches and straightened her shoulders. After clenching her fist again and taking in as big a breath as her lungs could hold, she plunged into the darkness.

The possibility of the crows or the nearby roaring waking her up was equally plausible when Sally raised her head again. She was in the middle of a corn field. An entire flock of crows was circling over her. When she went to right herself she found that her feet were touching the ground. As she tried to stand up she looked around trying to find where the roaring noise was coming from. The corn was too dense to know exactly where it originated, but one thing was absolutely clear.  
It was coming closer.


	2. Max Thomson Jr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max tears through Coldwind Farm at Sally's expense

The fields of yellow-stained corn appeared very much similar to the insides of the bladed spinning device that Max was so fond of using. Not in the literal sense, but rather when something had jammed the chainsaw it was clear what internal malfunction had occured, as it also was when something had disturbed the neatly standing maize. Even the slightest unevenness would have been enough for Max to notice the crouched figure in the fields without the murder of crows circling over them. He held down the trigger of his terrifing instrument, raised it over his head, then started to charge.

But when he reached the pale shape they did not yield to the spinning blades and instead let out a shrill gasp and seemed to move through it, and Max, without so much as a scratch. 

Max was momentarily suprised.

Whenever his saw came down upon his targets and they, through incomprehensible means, moved passed it they never went through Max completely. But his shock was as short lived as the recovery of his swing, and he went after the pale figure readying his off-hand hammer for a second strike.

The target was limping and was soon within the blunt head's reach as Max pulled back his left arm. But once again the figure let out a gasp for air and phased through the attack unscathed, much to Max's anger. This began a pattern that only increased his ferocity when all of his assualts were met with thin air, and disolved what was left of his patience. In a blood-lust fueled act of desperation Max charged the figure with his chainsaw held high and lessoned his grip as he swung it parallel to his waist. It span through the air at such a speed that the figure was at last knocked to the ground.

Max went over to inspect his handy work and was pleased to find that the chainsaw's tip was covered in a glowing red substance. The figure lay still as he raised the mighty weapon above his head once more and filling the air with its ear splitting cry before letting it fall.

The figure was not abscent of her reflexes however, and she went clean through Max's clumsy attempt at finishing her then countered with her own strike aimed towards his back, her bonesaw now deeply embedded in Max's swollen shoulder blade. Max responded to the pain by swinging his arms backwards, hitting the figure firmly in the chest. He grasped at the sharp pain and let out a mild groan as he removed the saw and flung it towards the figure. She threw herself down as the saw just skirted over her head, and the ground was litered with the excess of her open wound. She let out a cry and warped to where the saw had landed.

As she disappeared out of the field Max revved up his chainsaw again and followed, sprinting as fast as he could.

As he rushed out of the corn field Max lowered his arms and slowed down. Now aware of his targets ability he carefully walked around the stacked haybales. His sunken eyes were easily able to spot the glowing red trail that lead into the farmhouse. If it didn't already light up in his contorted vision its scent would have most certainly lead Max to the wounded target.

The blood lead upstairs. Like a moth to a flame Max honed in without hesitation, only stopping to taste the air once he ascened the staircase. There was little doubt in his mind that he would catch them much easier in the enclosed corridors. As he turned the first corner the trail abruptly stopped at several scraps of stained white cloth. Max was undeterred. He had them cornered after all.

The crows outside had gathered on the roof of the house and began to cry out as Max methodically stepped around the hallways, waiting for the nervous breathing of a target that always graced his ears when they were trapped on the second floor. The silent air was disturbed by the expected breathing when he entered the last room. Inside was the splintered remnants of a wooden dressing table and several stools, now happily broken as they gave way to vivid memories of abuse before Max had crushed them under his heel. Also present were two rectangular boxes. They were made of red dyed wood and had metal hinges with several thin slits to peer in. It wasn't uncommon for them to be used as hiding places during a hunt, a luxury that Max savoured as he often plucked the terrified and helpless from their steel coffins. 

He put his ear to the box on the left. It was audibly silent. He made sure to keep his head facing the doorway as he went closer to the second box, as to not startle to target inside. He walked to the side of the box and listening whilst quieting his own breathing.

There was no doubt of what was inside.

He flung the box open and had only moments to see the pale figure lunge foward, spliting the leathery skin across his face apart with her saw then warp behind him as he recoiled from the pain. Her entire body weight fell upon Max, and his head fell into the open box before being slammed between its doors repeatedly. His chainsaw was ripped from his weakened grip by the figure's steel grip and struck hard across Max's already wounded shoulder.

It went clean through.

Max could only comprehend the ringing in his ears and the pain coursing through his body as he fell backwards, with a mixture red, yellow and black liquid leaking onto the floor. The figure fell backwards against the wall opposite to him, panting heavily. The world became a blur and he could only just make out the appendages growing from the ceiling as consciousness failed him.

He awoke some time afterwards

Any trace of his wounds had vanished. His chainsaw was by his side, now marked with several vertical scratches. The figure was gone.

It was obvious to Max what had happened. He had failed to meet the beast's demands. 

He was too eager to catch his target and too prideful to learn from his failed attempts. He was lucky that all he received from this blunder was the sharp but short-lived pain. Had he been unsuccessful against his usual quarry the suffering endured would have been unbearable.

He got up and looked out through one of the houses many rotted holes. There was movement in the maize. Max lumbered down the staircase. Once at its base he exited the farmhouse and looked out to see a figure crouching low in the field. He held down the chainsaw's trigger, raised it above his head and began to charge.

Max would not fail again.


End file.
